The Savage Road: Journal of the She-Hulk
by JadeFury
Summary: If you're reading this, then I need you to know the truth. My name is Rebecca Reynolds, and since the accident I have to stay on the road. Have to keep moving to minimize damage. For when I let my emotions get the better of me, and I always do, I change. And when I do, there is only a wake of destruction left behind by the beast I have come to known as...the SAVAGE SHE-HULK.
1. The Bar Incident

The bourbon tastes good. Burns a little bit going down. A bit of pain in exchange for a bit of pleasure. Pretty much sums up the deal we call life, or at least how I know it.

My name? A few men have already asked for it, and I decline politely here at the bar counter. I'm not here to make friends. Can't even risk accepting a free drink; it might give out the wrong impression. I'm here to take one moment of solace, enjoy my drink, then move on. You see, I can't stay in one place for very long. Not this bar, not this town - and if the next incident that happens is bad enough, I'll have to leave this state behind too.

Sorry, I guess I'm getting ahead of myself here. If you're reading this, you need to know the truth. Well, _I_ need you to know the truth. Somebody besides me has to for my own sanity.

My name is Rebecca Reynolds. Right now, I'm that woman at the counter you see out of the corner of your eye trying to be discreet, brown hair framing a freckled face. I'm wearing a simple button-up shirt and jeans that haven't been washed in a week; they're both still in one piece which is more than I can say for a lot of my wardrobe. If you were to approach me, I'd stare at you with my brown eyes and tell you _thanks, but no thanks._ Trust me, your attention is better spent elsewhere.

Funny thing is, I'm an extrovert. Used to love being among people, chatting it up, going out with the girls, sharing a drink with a guy. But ever since the accident, I can't do that anymore. I'm states away from home, and this is the first drink I've allowed myself in a bit. Which reminds me, time to take another sip.

I feel the burn again in my throat. Got a good pour on this one, I think the bartender could tell I'm lonely. I don't have much, but I'll be sure to tip him a bit extra when I leave tonight. Could use the karma.

I'm almost done with this glass, and I consider another one. Bourbon takes the edge off. I have a lot of stress in my life right now, and stress isn't good. Stress causes me to change. _Literally_ change.

You see, there's something inside of me. It's hard to describe what it is, but over time it builds and builds and begs to get out. It only needs an excuse - anger, fear, pain, stress - and I lose control. When that happens, people get hurt.

I don't want to think about that right now. I catch the bartender's eye, and he understands, and reaches for the bottle to get me my refill.

"Let me get that, darling," says a voice to my left. I catch a man in my peripheral vision, but don't let myself look in his direction. Buzz cut, plaid shirt, broad shoulders, a few days unshaven. "You're too pretty to be drinking alone tonight," he continues.

Not the most clever pick-up line, but far from the worst I've heard. "No, thank you," I say, keeping my attention forward. "Meeting some friends in a few minutes," I lie.

He doesn't take the hint. "Well, let me keep you company for a few minutes then. It's all I ask!"

"I appreciate the gesture," I respond, "but tonight's just not a good night. Maybe tomorrow?" I lie again, hoping it'll get him to leave. No such luck.

The man brushes his hand back across his buzz-cut scalp and shakes his head with an annoyed laugh. "Darling, I don't care about tomorrow. I'm here now, and all I want is to share a drink with you for five minutes."

He's annoying me, but I'm calm. I lift my bourbon glass and finish the remainder of the drink, then let the empty glass rest on the bar. "Again, no thank you, but appreciate it." I wave off the refill to the bartender, scoot off the bar, and land on my sneaker-covered feet. With my brown hair falling in front of my face, I look away from the man and grab my bag. "Have a good night, sir."

I feel a sudden jolt as the man's hand grabs my arm. "I will have a good night, if you drink with me, lady." I'm closer than I'm comfortable with, and that distance allows me to smell the booze on his breath. He begins to pull on my arm. "Come back with me to my table and we'll share a round!"

"Please let go of me," I say, temper rising in my voice. I don't want to make a scene for a million reasons, but my first priority is not to let this drunk idiot drag me around. "I don't want a drink."

The man turns back, smile melted from his face, and scowls at me. "I saw you about to order one."

"I changed my mind," I say, trying to remove my arm from his grip. He tightens it, which begins to hurt. I'm getting angry. "Please let me go." I say it loudly enough so it echoes through the bar, but the patrons just turn and mind their own business.

"You're a liar. Plus, what's one drink gonna hurt?"

I feel pain in my arm. My brain begins to go into overdrive. I can feel myself breathing rage at my inability to escape this man. I don't want to be here, I need to go. But I can't go.

The man yanks me forward suddenly to him and wraps his arm around my back. He brushes my hair out of my face and I get another intake of his alcohol-stained breath. His glazed-over eyes lock with mine. "Why so annoyed? Come on, one drink and let's get you to smile."

My anger, panic, fear, and adrenaline boil over "I. Said. NO!"

Suddenly, I feel my arms outstretched in front of me, having shoved the man off of me, causing him to land a couple of tables away, greeted by the crashing of breaking glasses and clanging silverware. I'm free of him.

But that's where the good news end. I feel a cold chill wash across my body as my adrenaline surges, and my emotions flood over me. I see my reflection in the bar mirror, and instead of Rebecca Reynolds' brown eyes, I see the pale green eyes of something else staring back at me. My worst fear is here again: _The change is coming._

Remember how I said that when I lose control, people get hurt? Well, control has been lost, and I don't have much time. My body is taking over, and that something inside of me is coming out. Panicked, I try to move, but it's too late. My breathing becomes labored, and I can almost hear myself growl with every breath.

Pain overwhelms me. Every nerve ending, every muscle, every cell begins to fill with an overwhelming energy that I can't trace. It's too much for me to handle. I grab my pounding head with my hands as I fall to my knees. I'm trying to fight what's coming with every fiber of my being, but I don't know where to start. It's all too much, and the more I fight, the more it hurts. Finally, I can fight no more.

The pain melts away and is replaced by a numbness; a steady wave of power that, if I was in my right mind, would almost say felt good. My body begins to grow, slowly overpowering the last traces of resistance that were left over. I feel my shirt growing tighter, my jeans getting taut. My muscles have become larger, and they're the first to escape, my biceps tearing the seams of my shirt sleeves, while my thighs escape their denim prison below.

My muscles aren't the only things growing. I feel my fingernails lengthening at the tips of my fingers. I feel my hair lengthen, flowing down my shoulders and across my back. My toes shoot out the tips of my sneakers like they had been made from cardboard. I feel my bra digging into my flesh as my breasts enlarge and push against the cups.

People are staring at me, and I just don't care. _She_ does, though. I feel her presence now, sharing space in my brain. I'm losing real estate here, and I grasp on to as much time as I possibly can.

Though thoughts are short-lived, however, as another surge of adrenaline washes through me, and I let out a deep growl as the transformation takes another leap. My skin begins to darken away from any pigment considered human and into a jade green. I hear the buttons on on the front of my shirt begin to pop off as my chest overwhelms the fabric; the back of my shirt ripping up the middle to reveal a muscle-clad back covered by a straining bra. The belt on my jeans snaps as the button on my waste pops off, the jeans peeling off my calves revealing green amazonian legs.

I arch my back and yell to the ceiling as my jaw widens, lifting my monstrous arms above my head. I'm greeted with a sudden relief as my bra claps finally snaps, falling toward the ground as my engorged boobs sit free underneath shreds of my shirt and atop my newly defined abdominal muscles. With a massive roar, I bring them down and smash my fists into the floor, creating two craters in the floor and making everybody quake from the tremor.

What looks up at the people isn't Rebecca Reynolds. It's something _savage. _It's looking at them with those pale green eyes I mentioned earlier.

I'm no longer in control. The She-Hulk is.

I'm still there, in a way - a presence. Does she feel me like the way I feel her lurking inside me? I definitely feel her rage now. The She-Hulk makes her way to her feet and stands among the bar patrons, at least those who haven't fled in fear yet. She's a massive, monstrous figure. Arms and legs resembling tree trunks, muscles rippling through taut jade skin. A wild brush of black hair falling down across her back, neck, and shoulders. Growls and heavy breaths escaping through clenched teeth.

She's not human; the only things that would remind you of where she came from are the ragged remains of a shirt, bra, jeans, and panties that lay dangling off of her. She refuses to be human. Humans are weak, _puny. _Humans hurt her. And she's going to hurt them back.

The She-Hulk takes large, weighted steps to the front of her, towards the broken table where the man in a plaid shirt had landed. He's still finding his bearings, and doesn't quite notice the monster lurching toward him. Slowly, his eyes catch sight of what's in front of him, and his confusion turns to outright fear.

"Oh...oh my GOD! What are you?" he sputters out as he stumbles backwards among the broken glass.

The She-Hulk has him in her grip in no time. She lifts him up, feet dangling several feet off the ground, until they're face to face.

"Hello, darling," the beast said.

The man screamed.


	2. Aftermath

I'm awake.

I inhale sharply, breathing in some dirt from the ground where I lay prone. Going into a coughing fit, I force myself to use my aching muscles a bit sooner than I would've liked to, using my arms to lift myself up to where I can sit on my knees. I spit away the taste of earth and just sit there as I let my senses return to me.

Cold. My skin prickles with goosebumps as a brisk breeze blows across it. I instinctively cross my arms over my chest in a futile attempt to warm myself. My eyes open, but the glow of the sun fights them; they slowly adjust and take in the surrounding world. Foggy blurs soon turn into a crisper picture.

I now see that I'm surrounded by trees and grass. No roadways, no people. I'm alone, the way the **She-Hulk** likes it.

It never takes long before I have to think of the monster that lives inside me. How can I not? We're in this life together now. We share the same body. She goes where I take her and I go where she takes me. We're a two-woman show with one body between us to play tug-of-war with.

She's had her time for now, though. She's relinquished the rope and let me pull my humanity back.

I crawl a few feet on my hands and knees and prop my aching body against one of the nearby trees, leaning my bare back against the rough bark of the trunk. I bring my knees up to my bare chest and wrap my arms around my legs, trying to preserve some warmth. The transformation has left me half naked, with only the tattered remains of the jeans I was wearing. That's usually how it plays out; if I'm lucky, sometimes I'll be left with some scraps of a shirt or coat that I can cover myself with, though there are some times I've been left buck ass naked too.

That's the reality of changing from a 5-foot-8, decently built woman into a monstrous behemoth who cares nothing about modesty. Feet that would make Bigfoot jealous destroy my shoes. Her porn star-sized tits KO almost any bra I wear. Muscles upon muscles flexing through inhuman green skin pretty much take care of the rest of my clothing. Add pale green eyes, thick brow, wild hair, and a massive jaw, and you've got the best picture of the She-Hulk I can conjure for you at the moment.

But now I'm just Rebecca Reynolds, clad with normal feet, average boobs, and the few muscles I've earned at the gym.

I close my eyes and breath slowly. Though I wasn't in the driver's seat, the memories of last night come flooding back as my brain readjusts to its human chemistry. The bar, the man...the _rage._ I remember what the She-Hulk did to that man, and let me just say that he's not going to be harassing any women any time soon.

It's a lot for me to process, which is why I'm keeping this digital journal. Keeping a record of my story...it's the only way I know how to handle what's going on in my life at the moment. I need to share this with somebody...and I have nobody I can tell in person. Sometimes it just seems so stressful, and let me tell you: Stress isn't a good thing for me anymore. The She-Hulk loves stress. The She-Hulk loves anger. The She-Hulk loves destruction.

But as of right now, I can't help but laugh. God, I remember when the big issues I had to journal about were a boy in school not liking me. Oh young Rebecca, just you wait.

Speaking of waiting, it's now become a waiting game once again. I take a deep breath and search for the She-Hulk inside. Unlike last night, I can barely feel her presence; it's almost like she's not there. It's a rare feeling nowadays that only comes after I change back, so I soak it in. But I know the truth; the beast is there, she's just resting. Soon enough I'll feel her presence grow and grow, until the slightest provocation will unleash her to the world. Then I'll be back in the position I am now, trying to figure out my next steps.

As for now, time to take a deep breath, and begin the search for civilization.

And clothes.


	3. Two Passengers, No Ticket

OK, this was a mistake.

I pretend to not see one of the train employees not so discreetly stare at me from down the aisle while talking with one of her co-workers. It's obvious they know what I did; the question is: what are they going to do about it?

Hopping the turnstile and jumping into the train car has not been the smartest thing I've been doing in my time on the road. I've just been so worn down recently, and the thought of saving myself several days and dozens of miles to get to my next destination was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Or so I told myself.

What I promised myself would be a one-time thing turned into several times this past week. I should've taken the time to scrounge up enough for the train ticket today, but my impatience got the better of me.

Too late to do anything about that now, Rebecca. Why isn't foresight 20/20 like hindsight is? Now that's a question I ask myself a lot.

The workers continue talking about me as I turn my head toward the window, making myself watch as a varied mix of houses and trees fly past as the train carries us by. A sight to get lost in any other time, but for now I had to think of what to do.

Option one is a no-go: I don't have the money to pay for my fare. What cash I did have went into buying a fresh set of clothes to replace the ones that were destroyed last week after a punk on the street made the mistake of trying to rob me. The She-Hulk didn't take too kindly to that, let's just say.

I'm not sure when the next stop is, but I could conceivably make my way off the train there. I'd have to lose these employees first, though, and hope they don't find chasing me down worth the effort.

What would happen if they did catch me? That brief thought causes something to stir within me, the feeling of a restless presence, and I abandon the thought.

The two employees are still in talk mode and don't look like they're ready to make a move on me quite yet. I pretend to be oblivious for a few more seconds. Am I timing this right? I don't have a lot of options. Now or never.

I bring my hands down to the armrests on my seat and pivot my legs to the aisle, my arms pushing me to my feet, which immediately carry me away from the train employees and through the door separating the two train cars. The sounds of spinning wheels grinding along the railroad tracks immediately grows louder as I cross the walkway into the next car, before opening the next door and finding protection in the new space. I don't look behind me; instead, I continue moving at a pace brisk enough to put distance between me and my watchers, but not quickly enough to draw attention to myself from any other passenger.

Soon I'm at the end of this current car, and I once again make my way to the next. As I open the door to the next car, I stop dead in my tracks, as straight ahead of me is a security officer making a beeline down the aisle in my direction.

Shit. Shit!

I turn myself around and slam the door behind me, dragging myself back into the previous car. Waiting for me here is just as unwelcome of a sight: the two uniformed employees moving toward me one after the other.

SHIT.

My body is frozen. My eyes dart toward the train window, and see the train, while having slowed, was still moving. The stop was getting near, but not quickly enough. I made my move too soon.

Options are getting scarce. Forward and backward are blocked. Instinctively, my body takes the only other option available, and I lock the sliding door of the train car's bathroom behind me. It's only a few seconds before I hear the banging of fists against the door's surface, and the muffled sounds of shouts coming from the other side.

I lean against the tiny sink built into the wall of the tiny rectangle I've trapped myself in, and the pounding of the wronged representatives of the train company keeps intensifying, echoing around me in my small cage. Now the lock, begins to jiggle, as no doubt they're attempting to jimmy the door open. Joining the chorus is the pounding of my heartbeat, and the deep pants of my panicked lungs inhaling, exhaling.

I'm afraid.

A tightness grows in my chest, and a cold chill spreads throughout my body. I look up into the small, scratched-up mirror and see that a pair of pale green eyes are staring back at me.

I've exhausted all of my options. The She-Hulk, however, hasn't.

She's not wasting any time getting to work, either. My hair has already doubled in length, and my brand new v-neck top is showing cleavage that definitely doesn't belong to me. Those changes are only the firsts; the familiar pangs of the transformation begin to burn their way through my body, nerves lighting on fire as my muscles begin to swell atop the painful cracking of my growing skeleton, my clothes growing tight.

Grimacing, I watch in the mirror as green shoulders tear their way through the seams of my shirt, my massive arms following suit and splitting the fabric of my sleeves. A series of growth spasms erupts through my legs, a mix of pain and numbness flowing through them. My widening feet find relief as I feel them rip open the cheap material of my bargain sneakers. The white capris I'm wearing begin to lose their battle against my thickening calves as they begin to split up my tree-trunk sized legs, massive thighs forcing the fabric apart loudly all the way up to the waistband above my hips.

I hear a groan escape my lips as I witness the half-human/half-monster in the reflection arch her back in response to a wave of pain through her bones. As my ribs and spine crack, the front of my bra snaps open, unleashing enlarged breasts which pull apart the shirt's fabric with ease, revealing the tight lumps of stark abdominal muscles. I feel a burst of power growing from my core — the agony of the change is beginning to numb as my adrenaline kicks into overdrive.

That fear I was feeling just a few minutes ago has transformed into something else. I'm...angry. So, so angry. Everything is **anger**.

And in that anger she emerges. My brain no longer controls the body which is no longer human. In that mirror's reflection, behind those green eyes is the She-Hulk staring back at her massive, green-skinned body. She's conducting this train, and it's full speed ahead.

With a growl, she flexes her left arm and the door tears off its hinges and knocks one of the train's security guards against the opposite wall. The beast steps out into the corridor and unleashes a roar, tearing off whatever was left of my shirt and bra and throwing them to the floor, leaving only the tattered capri pants hanging off her hips. The passengers, turning around at the sound of the commotion, begin to light up in horror. Screams echo in the train car as passengers begin to stumble out of their seats and run the opposite direction of her. She doesn't care; in fact, that's what she likes. They can run in fear all they like, those puny humans.

The She-Hulk steps forward and, grabbing her by the arm, lifts up the woman who was watching me minutes earlier, the one who tipped me off that I had finally been caught. She struggles in the powerful grip of the monster, her body convulsing in panic as her feet desperately kicks around searching for solid ground. She's screaming, and the She-Hulk seems to soak it in.

The security guards and other employees struggle to find their balance as the train lurches to a halt. The She-Hulk's attention diverts out the window, and sees the scenery has grown still, replaced by the concrete construction of a train station. Holding the woman in her right hand, the She-Hulk rips up the nearest bench and, with a quick flick of her power, launches the chair through the side of the train with enough momentum to smash through the large pane glass window.

"Your stop," she growls. The woman's screams echo into the train station as she finds herself launched through the broken window, coming to land painfully on the concrete station platform. With a frightful smirk, the She-Hulk turns herself around and, with a quick extension of her two arms, lifts the two men up in the air, and smiles. Seconds later, they're finding themselves rolling across the concrete alongside their colleague.

A massive roar fills the train and echoes outward as the She-Hulk bellows her rage into the ether. Crouching down on her legs, the monster propels herself upward with a mighty leap, tearing through the metal roof of the train car and freeing herself into the open air.

Her body carries her in a strong arc over trees, houses, and streets, before she lands creating a crater in a small grassy patch on the side of the road. Her stay there is short-lived, however, as her leg muscles, absorbing the recoil of her landing, launch her airborne once again, creating her next arc.

This continues for what seems to me like miles, but it's hard to be certain; it's not my train anymore, after all. I'm just a passenger on this ride, and, like the train we just escaped from, I have to wait for my stop.


End file.
